Forced Love
by edwardisperfection92
Summary: When Francesca Elizabeth, Princess of England, is forced to marry, she is devastated. She wants to marry the love of her life, not Edward Anthony, Prince of France. They will hate each other, but it is said that from love to hate there is only one step...
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello everyone! I though this story up while watching **_**The Other Boleyn Girl**_**. I LOVE that movie, and the era seems so fascinating to me, so I decided why not make a story in that time frame. I'll make it more lighthearted, of course, and not as accurate, since I'm not exactly a expert in the subject, but I'll try my best. Hope you like it! **

**Prologue:**

_**The Royal Castle, England…**_

Francesca Elizabeth Susanna Northwood, Princess and succeeding Queen to the English Throne pouted as she folded her hands over her middle, while looking at her Father and Mother, King and Queen of England. They were the most powerful people in the world, and Francie had always felt proud of her parents. However, pride was not the sentiment she was feeling toward her beautiful parents. Ellen Cybil and William Nathanial Northwood looked at her expectantly, there cool and perfect faces set in a picture of patience. Ellen was blond and blue eyed, her hair the color of honey and set in a bun under her English hood, while her slender frame was wrapped in a exquisite violet gown, the color custom to woman of superior power. She sat in her throne with her head high, her back erect, and her heavily ringed fingers folded on her lap. Her Father however, sat reclined on his huge velvet chair, his feet extended before him, a tender smile now overtaking his face as he looked a Francesca. He was tall, very muscular, a warrior in his own time, and ladies' man before his devotion to her Mother had overtaken him after Francesca's birth. It wasn't custom for a King to bed only his wife, for he could have any woman he desired at the snap of his fingers, but the only woman he desired was her mother. William was handsome with brown hair and gray eyes, and as Francesca tapped her little slipper-clad feet on the grown, her Father stood up and walked toward her.

He looked down at her with tenderness before leaning down, bending at the knees so his eyes were level with hers. She never let the dissatisfaction leave her face as her father took her small shoulders in his big hands, the warmth of them seeping through the thick layers of her gown and under attire. She looked up at him as he straightened and pulled on her braided chestnut colored hair.

" Father, you know why I have come to you--" She was cut of by his father's large hand covering her mouth.

" Francesca, we have discussed this, and discussed this, and the answer to your question, Miss, will always be the same. Now don't try my patience and go sit at you Mothers feet and finish embroidering the gown you've started." He turned abruptly, his calm voice never rising, his tender gaze never wavering. That's why he was a most loved King. He was so merciful.

" But, My Lord, If you could just let me speak. Please, Father."

" No. Enough. Do as I tell you." He clapped his hands and the court entered trough the huge double doors of the castle. " Let's have some music, yes?" He walked to the large table where his closest companions sat and played cards, while she sat at the feet of her beautiful Mother. She didn't realize that she was crying until her Mother took her small chin in her palm and wiped away a big tear with a gentle finger. The Queen stood, and her Lady in waiting arranged the long train of her dress as she followed. Ellen shook her head and ushered the lady away as they reached the door to the Queen's rooms. Francesca's mother took her child's cold hand in hers and pulled her to the huge bed, where her parents slept every night.

Francesca was shaking with her broken sobs, and her Mother pulled her into her lab, their skirts, Francesca's a pretty light blue velvet, her mother dark purple, made a halo around them. Ellen cooed and stroked her daughter's head while rocking back and forth.

" My dear Child. Shh. There, there. Shh. All is well. Quiet now, My Love."

" Please, Mother. Please, oh please, My Lady. Please don't let it happen. I'm not ready for it. Please." Francesca lifted her head off her Mother's shoulder, and sobbed some more when she saw the sympathetic look on her Mother's Face. She wouldn't do anything either. She couldn't. It had to be done. As if reading her mind, the Queen spoke up.

" Forgive me, My Sweet, for the grief you must go through, but it has to be done. We have to be assured that the country has a King in case your Father is harmed, Lord forbid such thing from occurring."

" But Mother," Francesca wiped her nose with the back of her hand in an un-lady like fashion. " Father is healthy and strong. He might live for the next hundred years. Why can't I wait to find a man I'm in love with to marry. I do not want to marry without love, Mother. I want to have what you and Father have. Why can't I wait?" Her soft voice rose to heartbroken wail.

" Because, Darling, you are fifteen already. We should have married you two years ago, as the custom mandates, but we decided to wait. We cannot any longer. Not if you want to be married to an unsuitable or disgusting old man?" Francesca shook her head, her fragile shoulders bowing in defeat.

" But don't worry, My dear Child, you'll love. You Just have to wait for it."

" How can that be when I'm marrying no other than Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, Prince and Heir to the Throne of France, and no other than the biggest womanizer on earth?" Francesca started crying harder. " I'll never love, and I'll never be loved!"

She buried her head once again in her Mother's fragrant neck, and clung to her. There was nothing she could do. She would have to marry the cheating bastard. Her fantasy of an ideal life vanished, replaced by the image of a cool and indifferent husband like Edward, Prince of France.

She wept harder.

_**The Royal Castle, France. **_

Edward Anthony Masen Cullen looked at his gold cup, the last drop of the delicious red wine disappearing after he tipped it to his lips.

" You should stop drinking," Murmured his brother-in-law Jasper Whitlock hale. Emmett Emanuel Cullen, his cousin, nodded, while looking at him sympathetically.

" No, I want to drink some more. Just a little…" Edwards words were a little slurred. He reached for the pitcher of wine when the door to his chambers flew open and in came the wives of his companions. Alice Mary Cullen Hale, his younger sister, had married Jasper, and Jasper's twin sister, Rosalie Rebecca Hale Cullen had married his cousin, Emmett. They curtsied, and walked to sit on the laps of their husbands. This would have been scandalous had they done it in court, but in Edward's rooms they did as they pleased.

The women looked at him with pity. He stood and paced away. He was the Prince and Heir to the French, and now English Kingdom. There wasn't a single thing that should prompt pity from people. No, not one thing.

" Not all of us are lucky enough to find the right person in time, Edward."

He whirled at the sound of his sister's soft voice. He stumbled toward her on unsteady feet.

" I don't care for the right person," he lied. " I value my freedom to much." Rosalie, the most outspoken of the group, snorted loudly.

" Forgive me, Sir, but I don't believe you have freedom as it is. You are a Prince, and will be a King one day. You have duties." She looked up at him with her lovely baby blue eyes intently. " Of course, if by freedom you mean bedding anything with a gown, then, Sire, you already have your freedom." She looked at Emmett, immediately dismissing him.

" Oh, you hush." He walked to the table, picked up the wine and walked cautiously to his bed, flopping down on the thick mat of the best feathers and animal skin in the kingdom. Some red wine spilled on to his silk shirt as he moved, but he paid no mind to it. Edward didn't resent his parent's decision on the matter of his arranged marriage to Princess Francesca Elizabeth Susanna Northwood of England. He knew it was his duty to his country, but he still resented the fact that it ruined his life plan. He sighed and drank the dry wine. He didn't even know his intended bride. That would make for a romantic Wedding and Wedding night. He shuddered. He would not think about that. Not right now. He would let the wine overwhelm him, and imagine himself just like he was right now. Free and happy. He fell asleep imagining what his bride would look like. But later, he would realize that his imagination had fallen short, for his bride was unimaginably perfect.


	2. Chapter 1: Like Me, Like Me Not

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for those of you who read this story. Really appreciate that my work is being read. So. I'll continue with my story.**

**Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters belong to me.**

**Chapter 1: Like me, Like me not.**

**Francie's POV:**

Life in court was very usual to her. She'd been part of it since she was a toddler, not usual for many princesses. But she had grown between only the most fashionable, rich, and influential people of the kingdom. It wasn't so different now. She was fifteen, almost sixteen, the richest lady, after her Mother, in all of England, one of the most beautiful, and the finest. The only difference was that she was about to marry. And wasn't that just the news of the year. People from other kingdoms had come to witness her wedding, to see the lovely pair that were to wed, for they all knew that Edward Anthony was easily the most handsome gentleman to walk the land. Francie scoffed. Gentleman or not, he was a cheater. She looked down at her long white dress. It was made of pure, heavy silk, and pure, real pearls were sewn on the tight bodice. The long veil set upon her head was of the finest material. She sighed. A lovely dress. She just wished she had used it to marry the right person. Her maid sprinkled rose scented water on her exposed, creamy white neck, pulled a wavy chestnut colored tress so it rested on her high cheekbone, and patted the veil once again. Francie tried not to think about what was about to happen right now, or later in the night. She would just throw herself on her knees and weep if she allowed herself to think. She looked around the room of the large, white tent set for her, and heard voices drift from outside. Her father pushed aside the heavy silk of the tent and faltered in his steps, starring at her. She blushed despite herself.

" Oh, my sweet, little girl. But you are so lovely! Don't look so sad, child. Everything is well. You are a Northwood, and have first and foremost a duty to your country. Now smile, for your fate could be worse. You could have been sent to a nunnery or the such. Smile."

Francie forced her small, courtier smile, and her Father nodded his approval. He stepped forward, and for the first time she noticed his gapping followers. He took her hand, interlaced their arms, and walked slowly forward, her long dress dragging behind her. Before they reached the opening of the huge tent, he turned back and flipped the soft thin veil over her face. His eyes warmed and if she wasn't mistaken, filled with tears.

They walked slowly down the huge green lawn, and turned when they reached the red long carpet set in the middle of the main royal garden. Beautiful voices sang a melodious tune as they stepped forward. Francie kept her head held high, her smile in place. She vaguely noticed the familiar and unfamiliar people sitting in the chairs set on either side to witness the marriage ceremony. She saw her mother sitting on the throne on one side, the King's throne empty by her side. They stopped and curtsied to her, turning to the other side to pay the same respects to the King and Queen of France. They were lovely. King Carlisle was perfect, kind faced with blond hair, while Queen Esme was round and womanly with a soft smile and chestnut colored hair under her French hood.

As Francie and her Father resumed their march, she took a deep breath and looked up at her groom. Without any surprise, she immediately saw that, yes, he was very handsome. His face was chiseled, perfect, with soft pink lips, big green eyes, and perfectly arranged auburn hair. His frame was much taller than hers. His shoulders were broad under his velvet white and golden coat, his legs long under his tight trousers. He was perfect. For a moment she thrilled in the fact that she, in a word, would posses so much beauty, but then her heart ached, for she knew that he wouldn't just belong to her. Resentment burned in her, hot and unbearable.

At last they reached the end of the aisle, her Father put her small hand in the Prince's, and walked regally toward his throne. Francie looked up into the eyes of the stranger and fixed her face in a set of cold, uncaring lines. They turned to the cardinal, and the ceremony started.

**Edward's POV:**

She was so beautiful. Under the veil he could see a pair of huge blue eyes, creamy white skin, with a delicate bone structure under it. On her cheekbones there was a splash of rosy color due to the afternoon sun. And despite the fact that it was October and the air was chilling, the afternoon could not have been more perfect. The colors of the early fall made everything more vivid, and put the lovely bride in a great contrast. Her white dress was long and molded her delicate frame to perfection. Edward paid little attention to the ceremony as he stared at her. He only came to when her lovely blue eyes fixed on him. Oh. It was time for them to exchange their rings. She slowly slid the thick gold band on his finger, and he slowly lifted her tiny hand, looked in her eyes and said:

" With this ring I thee wed,

This gold and silver I thee give,

And with my body I thee worship."

He slid the golden band on her thumb and slowly let go of her hand. They turned back to the cardinal to receive the blessing, and he allowed them to seal their marriage with a kiss. Edward lifted the smooth white veil from her face, and leaned down to press a quick kiss to her full pink lips. As a man, he wanted to linger, to know and meet the taste of her, but as soon as he felt her stiff lips under his, he pulled back and smiled at her. She looked at him with a small, false smile in return.

He took her small hand in his and walked behind the Kings and Queens into the chapel, where mass was going to take place. After two hours of sitting by his tense new wife, Edward was relieved when the Priest gave them there blessing and dismissed them. They walked to the Royal castle in a long train, knights in their armors on big horses, ladies dancing and singing, throwing flowers in the air in celebration, musicians playing fervently. Edward looked around, smiling, and leaned down toward Francesca.

" Everything is lovely, yes? The colors have made everything so much better," Edward couldn't explain his nervousness. Yes, it was strange, in all circumstances, to be married to someone you didn't know, but that was how it was done. In most circumstances.

Francesca nodded and looked up at him.

" Yes. Everything is perfect." He caught a note of resentment in her voice, but decided to ignore it. He wasn't the only one bitter about it, or so it seemed.

" Not that it matters," she continued in a too innocent voice. " Marrying because of obligation ruined the experience, don't you think?"

Tiny flakes of bread landed on their heads. She smiled and waved at people as they kept walking. Edward tried not to be annoyed. He wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines. She wanted to say, _Marrying you spoiled the experience._

" We're royals, it's our obligation," he said, casually, as if it was justification enough. Yes, royal blood ran in his veins and hers. And they were doomed to unhappiness because of it. Edward looked down at her. Were they really, he wondered to himself, but he immediately dismissed the thought.

They entered court and the music followed close behind.

" Let the newlyweds dance!" boomed her giant of a father, and Edward took her to the middle of the court and they clapped their hands and stamped their feet, twirling in a flirting dance. Everything was a show, of course, and he could hear the sighs and giggles of their audiences. Men looked at him enviously, women looked at her resentfully. And what was not to envy? She was perfect, he was perfect. They were beautiful and rich and almost worshipped. They would one day become king and queen of the two best kingdoms in the world. Yes. They had much another person would envy. What they didn't know was how the two smiling, beaming newlywed felt inside. No. All they saw was shining eyes and flushed cheeks and fake blissful smiles. Edward almost frowned, but he checked his face. After a few more pieces, his wife looked up at him and whispered that she was tired. He bowed, and they walked around the mass of dancers that had gathered around them in the last hour. They sat at the large table on the huge chairs set out for them. He felt a heavy clap on his shoulder. He scrambled to stand, but the King of England grinned and shook his head, his hair swishing about his head.

" No, I beg you, my son, to stay seated," The King bowed slightly, and Edward blinked. " It is your day today." The big man clapped and moved away, grasping the queen and twirling her about. They both glowed with love for one another. He didn't have to look at his parents to know that the same adoration for each other shined in their own eyes.

" Edward!" He smiled and turned in his chair to see Alice, her husband, his cousin Emmett and his wife, walk towards him. He turned to look at his own bride, and saw that she was looking at Alice and the beautiful Rosalie with a sort of resentment and curiosity. He stood, and Alice ran to him, her long green embroidered skirts flying about her like fairy wings.

" Sister," he turned to Francesca and saw with his own surprise, the surprise in her gaze. Who had she though Alice was? " I'd like you to meet my wife, Francesca Elizabeth Susanna Northwood Cullen, Princess of England, and future Queen of France and England," With a sweep of his elegant hand, he pushed his small sister towards his tall, slight bride. Alice smiled hugely at Francesca for a second, then she leaned forward, stood on her tiptoes and kissed both her cheeks, three times as it was custom in France, and took her hands in her own.

" Welcome to the family," Alice looked back at Edward, and he could see that Alice had liked his wife, for her jade colored eyes shined like a pair of stars in the sky.

" Are you going to present us also, My Lord, or have you forgotten about us?" He smiled toward the feisty Rosalie and made the introductions of his young cousins. He saw Francesca's eyes widen as Emmett stepped forward and picked her right off her feet to kiss her cheeks. Indeed, only her father was a big and strong as Emmett. He saw his Francesca look intently toward Jasper, and saw that jasper was watching her too. His eyes, as well as hers were intense, and then after a silent moment, a smile bloomed on her face. It was strange how jealousy stirred in his breast. Jasper returned a tentative smile as he bowed low.

" Your Highness," he said with a soft tone in his voice as he looked at her with a growing adoration. What was happening here, wondered Edward. Usually Jasper was the most quite of all when it came to strangers. With known people, he was quite charismatic, but otherwise, he seemed to live in his own world. " Allow me the disrespect of telling you that you surly are, after my Wife, if it does not offend you to be for once second, one of the most beautiful brides I have the pleasure of seeing." He smiled playfully, and Edward looked back and forth between them. Francesca giggled. Edward stared.

" Why, Lord Hale, you flatter me," she looked at Alice, who was looking smug for an explicable reason. " Lady Hale, surely you do not mind your husband's complement toward my humble person," she motioned with an elegant hand. " I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. His eyes seem to see only you."

Alice nodded and smiled toward Jasper, who was looking at Alice lovingly.

" How do you find England, Lady Hale? Is it pleasing? I sure hope you are enjoying it? As you too, Lady Cullen. I would very much enjoy your company, if yo would fancy staying here."

" Yes, indeed, it is a very lovely country," breathed Rosalie in her soft voice. " I must say, your Highness, what I like the most about the English is their way of speaking. Your accent is very pleasing to the ear."

" Yes, as is yours. But please, I insist," said the princess as she picked up a fat juicy grape and bit into it. " We are family, yes. Don't call me "your Highness". Call me by my name."

" Oh, but you have so many!" exclaimed Alice jokingly, while leaning forward. " Should we call you Francesca?" Edward turned toward his wife, waiting for the answer.

She shook her head, the loose tendril of chestnut colored hair grazing her smooth cheek.

" No. Please, call me Francie," She grabbed another grape. Their little group nodded.

" I'd like to call the court's attention," boomed King William's voice. He stood by Edward's father and mother's side, his large arm around his queen's shoulder. He had looked at the queen for the past few hours, and he couldn't help but admire her beauty. She was tall, blond, with large blue eyes, the exact same color as those of her daughter. She was poised and elegant. She was exactly fit to be a queen.

" We have made a union," continued the king. " Of the two most powerful countries in the old world. I'd like to welcome my new son into my family, and seal the allegiance we have created with France," He turned toward his mother and father. " Cheers to a new era!"

" Cheers!" were heard about the room. Edward had not been paying attention. He had been looking at Francie eat grapes. He looked away, out the castle's window and out into the gardens. Night was falling upon them. He gulped nervously. It was almost time for them to consummate their marriage.

For the next two hours, people walked up to their table, smiling and wishing them good. His palms were sweating, his heart was pounding, and he felt ridiculous. He wasn't an innocent like Francie, and she didn't look as nervous as he felt. He never felt like this, and he had been with women ten years older than him, with ten more times of experience. He breathed deep. But no woman had ever rejected him. It couldn't start to happen now.

At last, the King Asked the court, with a smile on his face, to retire. Edward looked down at the table and rubbed his palms on his trousers.

" It is time," The king motioned toward his train, consisting of his queen, Edward's mother and father, and his guards. Alice and his cousins had long ago retired to their rooms, and he missed the comfort they would have provided. He took his wife's hand, place it softly to the crook of his elbow, and followed the King's train. A few moments later, they reached their own rooms. Francie went into the west part of the rooms, and he went toward the other side, where he would be helped to be undressed. When he returned, Francie was still gone.

He stared toward the bed, and Francie entered, and moved toward the water set on the table. Her hands didn't even tremble a little, Edward thought with some resentment.

" Would you like some water, My lord?" she asked in a flat voice. When he didn't answer she turned.

" Very well," she nodded. Her long chestnut hair reached the middle of her back. It was wavy and soft looking. She wore only her undergarments, a long freely dress-like rope that reached her ankles. The top had fallen a little, revealing a smooth expanse of shoulders. Her collarbones were sharp and shapely, her neck long and elegant. He watched her walk toward the bed, and saw with dislike as she lay in the middle of it, her hands by her side, stiff as a board. He frowned.

No, its normal, he told himself. They were practically strangers. It was bound to be somewhat awkward. He walked towards her, climbed onto the soft bed, and hovered over her. He would make her comfortable. He leaned down, and kissed her closed lips softly. She didn't stir. She smelled like rose water, and as he nibbled on her lips, which had parted, and he tasted sweet grape. He ran a hand on the edge of her collarbone, down her arm, to her soft hand, and place it behind his neck. She didn't tighten it. She didn't kiss him back. She didn't even breathe hard, while he felt only lust for her. And it angered him. He pulled away and stood, frustrated, feeling bitterness for his fate. He glared at her, while she looked up at him with emotionless eyes.

" So is this how it's going to be, My lady? You shall not respond? For I feel as if I was forcing you."

" Forgive me, My lord," she whispered in a monotone. " But no, I will not."

" You will not," he repeated, getting angrier by the second. This had never happened to him. And it was maddening that he wanted her so much, while she didn't.

" No, I will not." She turned her head away. " Do what you have to do, My lord, but be aware that your attentions will not be returned. I am forcing myself to lie with a man that does not care for love and that _I _don't love, as it is. So do what you have to do."

Edward felt fury surge through him. He turned without a word, and stalked toward the wine set on the table by the water. He felt the shame of rejection color his cheeks and felt something close to hatred toward his wife. He should just take her, he though as her stared at her shapely form on the bed. He gulped down a hefty quantity of wine. But he couldn't. He would have to make her want him as much as he wanted her, and then reject her as she had done to him. He would make her feel the same shame he felt in that moment. He would do it. He stalked toward the bed, pulled back the soft animal skin, and buried under them, giving his back toward his cold wife. After a while he though he heard a sniffle, and as he was about to turn, he caught himself. No. He would be as cold as she. And he would make her pay.

**A/N: So, what do you think? Wait, don't tell me now, you can review! Please? I hoped you liked it. I can't wait to start on the next chapter. But please tell me what you think! I'll be waiting for your comments!**

**Also, I'd like to let you know that I did some research, for I wanted the wedding to be somewhat realistic. Not everything is fact though, so I hope it was as nice for you guys to read as it was for me to write. :D**


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